


Proof Of Trust

by ZorroRojo



Series: Proof [2]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-19
Updated: 2013-03-19
Packaged: 2017-12-05 20:05:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/727387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZorroRojo/pseuds/ZorroRojo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Proof Of Life.</p><p>This series is unfinished, however, this can be read as a stand alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

He woke alone. Had a feeling he would the night before, but being prepared for it didn't stop the disappointment. If there weren't so much proof, he'd doubt it even happened. There was plenty of proof, though. The sheets were rumpled on both sides instead of one, his bedroom smelled of sex, his pillow was still damp from his shower, a near empty tequila bottle lay discarded on the nightstand. 

The sun was shining through his bedroom window-- which meant afternoon and not morning. Chris knew Vin had somewhere to be. He was probably halfway to Alamosa by now. No wonder Chris woke alone, sleeping half the day away like he did. Chris would have accepted an invitation, but one was not given. He didn't blame Vin for not inviting him along. Hell, he'd probably scare the kids instead of playing with them. 

But with Vin gone, it did leave him out of sorts, wondering what he would do with himself the rest of the day. Only thing that came to mind was wallowing. It wasn't as though he had anything better to do, since all his friends had plans and obligations, getting ready for July 4th. 

Yeah, it was looking more and more like a good wallow was on the agenda. He could think on what the night before, with Vin, meant to him-- what it meant for the future. He could do it while he took care of his morning wood, too, make it a little trip down recent-memory lane while he was at it. Lifting the blanket, he glanced down and met the moist, one-eyed gaze of his dick. "Hang on there, pard, you'll get your due."

Chris swung out of bed, ignoring the few crackles and pops of his overworked joints, and headed for the shower. He couldn't help but grin as he pictured how Vin had looked just hours earlier, under the hot spray. Chris hadn't really expected morning-after awkwardness to set in before it was actually morning. But, Vin had turned his head and ducked under the water as if he could actually hide there.

The yelp Vin had let out when he'd plastered himself to Vin's back, now that was a memory. Wasn't like Vin to be so jumpy, but Chris liked the idea that he'd thrown him off guard; liked the idea that as far as he knew, he was one of a few select people to have the power to rattle the unshakable Vin Tanner. If Vin was a little shaky that meant he felt something. Chris liked what he'd made him feel, and how he'd made him feel it.

Chris' dick liked it, too. It jumped in hand as he stroked it lightly. It was a little raw from the workout of the night before, but was definitely happy to be back in action. Chris gripped a little tighter, squeezed his eyes shut, and brought to mind the image of steering Vin to the bed and sliding the bath towel over his lean body before pushing him to the mattress.

They'd wound up in a tangle of arms and legs, Vin hiding his face this time in the hollow of Chris' throat, while they stroked each other to a sweaty climax. When Vin quaked against Chris' body and groaned into his neck, Chris had lost all control and come hard in thick, forceful spurts all over Vin's fist. 

The memory made his balls tingle, and he fell back against the tiles of the shower with a thud. He tugged on his dick, fast and hard, while he replayed over and over the sounds and sensations of Vin against him until the tingles bound together into one orgasmic powder keg that blew, and blew hard. 

Residual shudders rippled through him as he caught his breath and watched his come wash down the drain. Looked like he didn't need to do much thinking when it came to what it meant to him to have Vin. No second-guessing in that. 

Wallowing was good for a while, but Chris was restless. He needed to be doing something, needed to feel busy while he rifled through his memories of the night with Vin and replayed them. Three o'clock in the afternoon, and Chris found himself in the truck, heading to the lumber yard. He’d decided to make himself useful and replace some of the slats on the stalls in the barn.

Thinking of the barn reminded Chris of hay, and that in turn reminded him of some of the places he wanted to get Vin naked. The couch, bed and shower had been good, but there were still lots of furniture and lots of places to baptize. Chris could see it in his head, as clear as the memories of fucking Vin on the couch... he'd bend him over the saddle tree and have him there; he'd take him through the south pasture and put him on his knees just at the top of the knoll; and when they were done there, he'd take him back to the house and put him on his back right on the kitchen table.  
Looked like his head was pretty clear on what last night meant for his future; days and nights stretched ahead of him, filled with fucking Vin Tanner. Chris grinned to himself.

Jesus Christ! He sure as hell hadn't seen that one coming 'til now. Well... maybe he had... sort of. It was those damn women in the budget office's fault. If they hadn't set his mind down this path, he might never have opened his eyes and made it to where he was. Despite the testosterone giving him a joy ride over it all, Chris still had to wonder if it was the smartest thing, though. Sure, he felt close to Vin. Sure, he had to stop himself from touching him whenever the urge struck - and only because it struck too often. Hell, he'd be touching him near twenty-four hours a day if he gave into his impulses. But, to go from a vague pang in his heart to picturing Vin naked and greased up on the kitchen table? Yup, it was the budget office's fault. Damn well never would have crossed his mind, otherwise. He would have continued to touch whenever he could, continued to spend all his free time with him, continued to invite him out to the ranch every weekend to quench his thirst for the man's company- never looking at him as anything other than his best friend. Maybe he'd send the whole budget office flowers.

The day Vin handed him a brochure detailing the newest Kevlar vests on the market, it took Chris less than five minutes to decide his team needed them. He'd been on the tenth floor fifteen minutes after that - and it would have been two minutes if he didn't have to fill out requisition forms. His quarterly budget had already been spent, and it would take a special waiver to get what he wanted.

When he arrived on the tenth floor, a place he typically avoided, he spotted them from the elevator and hurried in their direction. There were four women inside the door to Esquella Morreno, CPA and budget supervisor's office, probably more, but he couldn't see all the way in. Laughter escaped the small room and dominated the empty office floor. All the desks in the outer office were deserted; only Morreno's office showed any signs of life. Looked like he'd walked into a department meeting. He almost turned around and walked away, leaving his forms in the department secretary's in-box, but he wanted the approval and he wanted it pronto. So, he'd wait to talk to her. She was the only one who could override the red tape-- and months of damned processing-- and give immediate approval to his request. Chris Larabee always went to the source, not the middleman.

So he made himself comfortable in the chair behind the cubicle divider and settled in to wait. He wasn't hiding. Not at all. He did not skulk into rooms and hide. He strode into rooms and made them his own. So maybe he eavesdropped just a little. Wasn't his fault they were talking so loudly. He was just minding his own business in the waiting area, making sure his forms were properly filled in. 

The laughter got louder and for the first time he realized all the voices were feminine. He knew for a fact there was at least one male in the accounting department. Hell, he'd nearly scared the man into a heart attack the last time his request for a certain type of ammo was denied. The nerve of that pencil-necked geek, trying to tell him what ammo his team could use! Chris smiled as he remembered the look on the bean-counter's face when he offered to demonstrate the difference between the bullets - using the accountant's ass as the target. 

He'd made up his mind to interrupt the obviously non-business meeting when he heard a familiar name. He couldn't place the voice, but he distinctly heard the name 'Wilmington' among the laughter. 

"I swear, that man can charm anyone at anytime."

"Anyone female, you mean," another voice chimed in. 

"Oh, if he wanted to, he could charm men too, he just doesn't realize it."

"I wouldn't kick him out of bed," a third voice piped up. 

Chris had to chuckle at that. He hadn't seen many women resist Buck's attentions. Chris thought Buck obvious, a tad goofy and sometimes a little ridiculous, but he sure did make women feel good about themselves, Chris had to give him that.

"I wouldn't kick any of that team out of my bed. What is there, an attractiveness test to get on Larabee's team?"

Chris lost track of the voices. But he wasn't really listening. He couldn't help overhearing. They were awfully loud. Of course, he could have let them know he was there. All he had to do was stand up. He went back to listening, unable to help smiling just a little.

"Which one do you like Essy?" That was the secretary. Chris talked to her enough to recognize her voice. She'd dated Buck on occasion and hung out at Inez's once in awhile. Chris tried to put a name and face to the voice and finally came up with Tisha. Young, bottle-blonde, a figure that could stop traffic and a mouth to rival any of the male agents. 

"I don't know. They're all accomplished agents." Morreno again. At least one of them wasn't comparing his team to sides of beef. 

"Girl, just because you're getting married this weekend doesn't mean you can't look! Accomplished agents my ass! Speaking of ass, Tanner has got to have the cutest ass in the whole department!" 

Chris knew that voice too. Agent Ortoli from tax fraud. She usually worked out of northern Montana, catching cigarette smugglers from Canada. Must be in town for Morreno's wedding. It was nice to know the girls talked about the same things the boys did when a pack of them got together.

"I'll give you the fact Tanner has a nice ass. He's Calvin Klein poster-boy material. Too bad he's gay." 

Chris nearly dropped his paperwork. Vin? Gay? If that were true, he would know, wouldn't he?

"No way!" A new voice joined the conversation. "What makes you think that? Did he tell you that?"

Tisha's voice grew louder, apparently enjoying the attention she'd gained with her pronouncement. "Girls, that boy doesn't even look at my tits. When a man doesn't even take a first look, never mind a second, the only possible explanation is he's batting for the home team."

"Come off it Tish, not every man wants you."

"Did I say that? Huh? Did I? No. What I said is that they at least look. They can't help it. Even Black-Hearted Larabee looks. Hell, happily married Nathan looks. Even Dunne, who probably wouldn't know what to do; he looks. Sanchez is old enough to be my grandfather and he looks. And they don't just look at me - they look at every woman with a pulse. They don't even know they're doing it."

The talking began to overlap and the noise was loud enough for Larabee to make his escape undetected if he were so inclined. He wasn't. He still wanted his vests. A loud banging overpowered the talking and laughing and Chris could make out Morreno's voice over the din. He wondered when someone would call a halt.

"I appreciate the impromptu wedding shower, and I love you all, but we're stepping outside the bounds of good taste and professional behavior, ladies. Let's save it for the bar. You can all leave early today, and we'll meet up at six at Jake's on Dwyer, right?"

Overlapping voices and goodbyes greeted Chris as he sat straighter in his chair. He tipped his head to the women as they filed past him. The looks on their faces when they saw him were priceless. He couldn't help smirking. Hell, he didn't want to. It was pretty funny. He counted nine in all. Jeez, no wonder they'd gotten out of hand. He waited until he was sure Morreno was alone before he entered her office. She at least had the decency to blush when she realized he might have overheard them. He had his paperwork signed in less than ten seconds. It would have been a good time to slip in some budget adjustments for the following quarter. 

A long, shrill honk brought Chris back to the reality of moving-- and not moving-- vehicles; he'd sat right through the traffic light a block before the lumber yard. Reason numero uno that getting wrapped up in Vin might not be the brightest thing he'd thought up yet. It would be damned hard to keep his head on straight until they were past the early, giddy stages of this... thing... they'd started. But, the more Chris went over in his mind the picture of Vin bent over that saddle tree just waiting to be filled up, the more he realized that nothing had felt so right, in so long. Vin was his now, and he had every intention of enjoying everything that that meant; from Vin's shy awkwardness to the day when they'd strip down and give each other everything without a timid thought in sight. 

But for today, anyway, Chris would content himself with working off some of his raging testosterone by pounding some lumber. The traffic light flashed to green, and he was on his way again.

 

Monday morning came all too soon for Vin, and not because it meant being back to work. Hell, his job-- Team Seven itself-- was the best thing to happen to him. But this Monday, he'd be facing the team not knowing how to look Chris in the eye.

Not that he was ashamed of what they'd done; shame had nothing to do with it. He just wasn't sure how you looked at a man across a conference table, when that man had his dick in your ass not three days ago. Vin had to admit that if he'd been smart, he'd have gotten a face-to-face with Chris out of the way before it had to happen in front of the other guys. But instead of playing it smart, Vin had played it chicken-shit and hid out with a bunch of kids the whole weekend, volunteering far more of his time than he'd originally signed on for.

He'd told himself he could use that extra time to get his thick head together, but as he pulled into the Federal building, Vin decided he was as thick as ever. He'd been taken by surprise that night with Chris. But, no amount of should have and could have would change what happened. And after all was said and done, Vin didn't really want to change it, even if he didn't have clue number one where to go next. 

Out of habit, he pulled up right next to Chris' Ram. Predictable as usual, he snorted to himself as he got out of the Jeep. Heading up the elevator, it occurred to Vin that Chris could be pretty predictable, too. Or consistent was maybe a better word. Yeah. Consistent.

Like with not doing stupid shit that could put the team on edge. Maybe he was making too much of this 'Monday After' thing he was knotted up about, Vin thought. Chris wouldn't have gone along with what they'd done if he thought it would make for awkwardness on the team.

So, it would make it interesting, coming into work now that he had a real intimate knowledge of Chris' body that he hadn't had before. What of it? They were both grown men, and Chris was the most trustworthy man Vin had ever known. If there was anyone he should be able to trust with a casual fuck, it had to be Chris.

When the elevator dinged at his floor and opened the doors, Vin stepped out, telling himself that instead of carrying on inside about things being awkward, he ought to be looking forward to having some vivid memories to break up what would probably be a boring day of paperwork.

"Do my eyes deceive me? Mr. Tanner, last to arrive. Did Mr. Larabee's labors this weekend exhaust you beyond your capacity?"

Vin froze at his desk, and felt a flush creep up his neck and into his cheeks. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Ezra winced and shook his head. "Just how much of that barn did you end up mucking out?"

Barn? Barn! Vin had forgotten losing the bet and its subsequent payment. "None. Had something to do this weekend." Vin answered and tried his best casual shrug as he pulled out his chair.

"You aren't getting out of it, Tanner," Chris called from the across the room at the coffee station.

Vin was caught between a grin and a grimace, glad to hear the familiar, teasing ring to Chris' voice, and yet still hyper-aware that there might yet be something on their faces spelling out just what he and Chris had done before he'd taken off for the kids' camp.

"I ain't tryin to get out of it. Said I'd do it, and I will," Vin said as he booted up his computer.

Chris swaggered over to the desks, Vin watching warily from the corner of his eye, "Oh, I know you will. But now, it's just a question of when."

Vin let out a put-upon sigh, and finally looked up. "All right, all right. Tonight, okay?" 

Chris flashed a wide, satisfied grin. "Thank you. Horses have been making use of it lately, to get out of the heat."

Vin groaned, wanting to drop his forehead to the desk in defeat. He could imagine the loads of horse shit waiting for him in that damned barn. Usually, the horses roamed the pasture, except when it was biting cold. Vin wondered if Chris were just having some fun at his expense, or if the horses had actually been taking to the barn... or if Chris had been rounding them up in it just to give Vin more shoveling to do.

He was about to ask, when he glanced up again and saw the warmth in Chris' eyes, along with a light in them that Vin hadn't really noticed before. Chris looked... happy. The kind of happy that made a person think that this world might not be so shitty after all.

"I'll be out after my shift," Vin found himself saying, feeling a smile tug at his lips.

"All right, boys, now let's make our government happy and give them lots of paper to chew on," Chris said to everyone, now that the team was all gathered and at their workstations. It amused Vin that the collective groans of his teammates outdid the one he'd rumbled in reaction to the horse shit.

The day turned out to be pretty good, paperwork aside, Vin thought. Chris hadn't treated him any different from he had before he and Chris had gotten it on, except for the extra little sparkle that flickered now and then in Chris' eyes, and Vin was pretty sure that nobody else noticed but him.

Of course, he'd had that momentary scare just after lunch, courtesy of good ole Bucklin. Seeing the Denver Dog cola cup on Vin's desk, Buck had made a passing remark about how nothing makes a day complete the way having one of Denver's best dogs in ya does. Of course, Vin hadn't been paying even half attention, and thanks to Buck's habit of referring to Chris as a dog, his mind had made some leaps and taken him back to having Chris in him, rather than the foot-long hot dog that had been his lunch. 

Occasional jitteriness aside, Vin got to quittin' time just fine, and hopped in the jeep to head to Chris' ranch. Once on the road, with the wind on his face and blowing his hair wild, Vin actually felt pretty damned good. Wasn't looking forward to shoveling horse shit, being a fairly sane man, but just being out at the ranch was always freeing, somehow, seeing green instead of asphalt, and hearing the whinnying of the horses instead of the horns of traffic.

The more Vin thought on it, the more he realized that things with Chris were really going to be okay. Obviously, they were still friends after what had happened, and Vin could still go out and breathe all that fresh air and freedom the ranch offered. No strings and no pressure, plus a good, hard fuck to keep in his memories. Vin grinned to himself and wondered why in the world he'd been so worked up about it in the first place.

 

Traffic. Of course. It wasn’t bad enough that he got stuck in a three hour meeting that didn’t begin until 3:00 PM, but he had to get stuck in traffic on his way home. The sun was still high in the summer sky and as he slowly crested the last rise before the turnoff onto the road leading to his property, Chris could see the reason for 30 miles worth of traffic. An overturned tractor trailer lay on its side across all four lanes on his side of the highway just past his exit. His exit, usually unused by most, was backed up onto the highway, all traffic being forced to exit there. The detour would continue past the road that led to his ranch - he wouldn’t be free just yet.

Dammit! Of all days. He wanted to be home long before Vin was through mucking out the barn. Truth be told, he wanted to help Vin - hadn’t at all planned to saddle his friend with all the work-- though he did plan to saddle him - in a manner of speaking. Planned on talking to him, too. Vin’s jumpiness hadn’t escaped Chris’ notice and though he’d hoped a “talk” wasn’t needed, he’d prepared himself to have one. A short one. Wasn’t much needed to be said. Chris envisioned it going along the lines of - “We care about each other. We have great sex. What’s the problem?”

He couldn’t see anything wrong with his own reasoning. Vin wouldn’t either, he knew. Wasn’t as if he was asking him to marry him or even move in. Right? Right.

When the car in front of his truck didn’t move, although there was at least 20 yards between it and the next car, Chris leaned on the horn and yelled, “Come on!” Didn’t matter that it wouldn’t do any good - didn’t matter that he’d still be stuck in traffic, it made him feel at least a little better. He leaned back further into his seat and turned up the radio. It was going to be a long haul.

Twenty minutes later, Chris pulled into his own mile-long driveway, anticipating finding Vin sweaty and maybe shirtless - a fantasy he’d indulged in plenty of times during the past few days. He barreled down his dirt drive a little fast for the pitted road, rattling himself and his truck with the speed. He hadn’t looked forward to arriving home this much in years. Four to be exact. He shook away thoughts of the past just as his house came into view. 

He pulled up short - his good mood evaporating immediately when he noticed his paved parking area completely empty. Vin’s Jeep wasn’t there - neither was his bike. Either Tanner’d never come out, or Chris had missed him. Cursing beauracracy, Denver highways and ornery snipers, he dragged himself out of his truck and headed to the barn. 

Clean as a whistle - empty too - so Vin had come and gone. New feed in all the stalls, tack laid out and cleaned - Vin had done more than required. Chris found himself smiling without realizing it, quickly smiling bigger when he noticed. Damn, it felt good to be happy. He wasn’t going to start whistling. Nope, he wasn’t that kind of guy. His smile widened as he headed back toward the house. Maybe Vin’d left a note. All he had to do was call the office, and he would’ve know Chris’d gotten stuck in a meeting. Vin wasn’t one to intrude though and Chris respected that about his friend. Was grateful for it, even. Only sometimes, Chris found himself wishing Vin was the hovering and fretting type. It sure would have made sussing out his feelings a mite easier.

******


	2. 2

Trying to sneak into an office building with tight security and over a thousand workers was plain silly, he knew. But, Vin also knew if he didn't want to be noticed, he wouldn't be. Hooking his motorcycle helmet over his wrist and hand helped, if only a little. He slid through security quickly, deciding at that moment to take the stairs rather than the elevator. The stairs let out only a few yards from his desk instead of into the eleventh floor lobby.

He didn't know why he let the damn doctor talk him into a cast. Though, the promise of four weeks in a fiberglass cast rather than eight possible weeks in a soft splint did help his decision along. Truth be told; he'd already opted for the splint when Dr. Green spotted him in the emergency room. Wasn't even his doctor this time and the damn man just pushed right in. Vin mimicked the doctor as he climbed the stairs. "And how long do you think you'll actually wear the splint, Mr. Tanner? You do need that wrist in your profession, don't you Mr. Tanner? Would you risk permanent injury, Mr. Tanner?"

Vin remembered sitting on the gurney, humiliated, glaring at the interloper while his attending physician consulted with the chief of surgery. Damn butt-inski! The emergency room attending intern told him it was only a hairline fracture and would pretty much heal on its own if he took it easy. A plastic, *removable* splint would help it along, the doctor assured him. No need for a cast, he was told. 

Damn doctors, not even able to agree with each other. And since the doctor recommending splinting, icing and rest was an intern and the famous Dr. Green, chief of surgery at Denver Medical's trauma center, was the one recommending the cast, it was only a matter of time before he'd be leaving the emergency room with a cast on his wrist. He tuned out the lecture, doing his best to forget his first time under Dr. Green's care; he hadn't thought about that in years. The memory wasn't helping his mood any. He found himself nodding when the doctor asked, "Now Mr. Tanner, don't you agree a cast would be the best course of treatment? You can be out of here in half an hour." 

So here he was, nine hours later, trying to sneak into his own damn office before someone saw the small bright blue cast covering his wrist and fingers. Wouldn't do for one of the support personnel to see him and report the cast to any of his teammates before he had a chance to explain. Hopefully, he wouldn't need to do any shooting in the next four weeks. Could have been worse, he told himself as he rounded the curve to start climbing the last flight of stairs. Could have been his right hand. He stared down at his hands, the right one covered in a bright white bandage, and laughed. Only reason he even went to the damn hospital was the gash on his right palm. Damn thing wouldn't stop bleeding and it took seventeen stitches to close the wound. 

Getting dressed was a bitch and driving his bike to work was even worse, but he'd managed without mishap. Just had to be a mite more careful than usual was all. Hell, he'd even managed to take a shower with two plastic wrapped hands. Now that was something to be proud of! Not many men could say they'd done that. OK, he was stretching things, but anything to take his mind off what he was about to face was a good thing in his book.

He bumped the door with his hip and pushed his way through, making a beeline for his desk nestled in the corner. He sat down and exhaled softly; made it! As luck would have it, the first one to spot him was Buck. He shoved both hands down into his lap, but he wasn't quick enough. Wilmington obviously spotted his two wrapped hands and whistled long and loud at him. 

As Buck hurried to his side, Vin hung his head and waited. Why him? 

"Junior, Junior, Junior, just what the hell happened to you out at Chris' yesterday?"

"Nothing." Vin ground out through clenched jaws. 

"Doesn't look like nothin' to me," Buck laughed. 

"Didn't happen at Chris'."

"Where is the old dog, anyway?"

Vin snapped his head up and studied Buck. "How the hell would I know?"

"Well how'd you get here then?" Buck glanced at Vin's desk, spotted the helmet and started laughing even louder.

"Just what in the hell's so damned funny!"

"Woo-boy, are you in trouble," Buck managed to say between great big gulps of air. He reached out to tousle Vin's hair but Vin ducked the hand and growled a warning. Buck held his hands up in front of him and backed away from Vin, still laughing. "I sure don't want to be you right now, pard. "

Vin watched, wary, as Buck hurried over to his own desk and picked up the phone. If he was calling Chris, Vin was gonna let him have it. Wasn't his place, dammit. Vin checked the clock, wondering what in the hell Wilmington was doing in at 7:30. He almost always had the office to himself at this hour. He'd come in early, knowing he would have to wait until 8:00 before he could bring his hospital release and light duty forms to personnel. He had at least ten days of riding a desk. The small cast wouldn't slow him down, but the damn stitches would. 

He studied Buck and blatantly eavesdropped on his conversation with JD. OK, so Buck had hitched a ride in with whoever he'd spent the night with. Good thing it was JD on the other end of that line, 'cause if he'd called Chris, Vin would've walked out. 

When Buck hung up the phone, Vin called out, "Why'd you tell JD not to bother bringing an extra helmet?"

"Because you won't be needing yours." Buck started chuckling again, much to Vin's annoyance. "I'm going downstairs to get breakfast. Want some?"

"No thanks," Vin answered. "What do you mean, I'm not going to be needing mine? Buck? Buck?" He called after the retreating, still laughing agent. Even after almost a year of being teammates, sometimes Vin still couldn't quite figure Buck out. At first, he'd been wary of the other agent, not quite sure how to take his playful, open nature. Once he'd figured out Buck actually was exactly what he seemed, Vin relaxed his guard around him. He never let on the two of them had previous dealings. Buck wouldn't remember and Vin wasn't about to remind him. Juvenile records were sealed in the state of Colorado. Expunged would have been better; sealed would have to do.

The ding of the elevator announced the newest arrival and Vin slouched low in his chair. From the heavy footfall and long strides, he knew it was Josiah before the big man turned the corner.

"Morning, Vin," Josiah called out as he made his way to his desk. 

Vin left his hands cradled in his lap, not ready for another bout with a concerned teammate. He sat at his desk, not entirely sure what to do. Logging into his computer would make a good start, he decided. Aware of the eyes watching him while he concentrated, Vin used his right thumb to hit the space bar, calling up his login screen. Alternating between his thumb and index finger, he was able to enter his username and password to log into the network. Now what? He knew there were key strokes that would call up his e-mail, but he couldn't remember what they were. Dammit, he was going to have to use the mouse. 

He felt someone at his side and glanced up to see Josiah standing there, peering down at him. "What?" He asked.

"Need a hand?" Josiah asked without a trace of a smirk or a smile. Buck could take lessons, Vin decided.

"Nah, I'm doing OK."

"I can see that," Josiah said before heading over to the coffee station.

Vin wasn't sure if Josiah was being sarcastic or not. He knew he was being stubborn, knew Josiah's offer of help was genuine, but he couldn't help it. Neither hand hurt, and he had limited use of both of them. It wasn't like he couldn't do for himself. He nudged the mouse with his right wrist and managed to get the pointer to where it needed to be. He shifted his hand so he could tap the mouse button and grinned when his e-mail began to load. Hah! See, he crowed triumphantly. Only when he looked up, no one was watching him.

The elevator announced more arrivals, and he could hear Buck and Nathan before they rounded the corner. Nathan came to his side immediately and Vin glared at Buck. Man just didn't know when to mind his own business.

Before Nathan could say a word, Vin said, "I cracked the little bump on my wrist on my left hand and I tore open my palm on the right. A few stitches, four weeks in this bitty cast, no permanent damage and I'm cleared for light duty, OK?" He could hear Josiah and Buck laughing at him in the background, and he didn't like it. What in the sam-hell was so god darned funny! Damn, but he was irritable this morning.

"How'd you manage that?" Nathan asked.

"Working on the Jeep." 

"Are you on pain meds?"

"Doesn't hurt."

"Compared to what?"

"Compared to anything. Hell, I didn't even go to the hospital for the left hand. Damn nurse saw the swelling and corralled me down to x-ray. Next thing I know, they're putting it in a cast."

"How many stitches in the right?"

"Only seventeen." God dammit! If Buck didn't quit that gut busting cackling soon, Vin was going to lose his temper.

"Only seventeen, huh." Nathan winked at him.

If nobody would let him in on the joke, he wasn't going to play. He had to remind himself that his teammates weren't laughing at him. Well, they were, but not in a bad way. Hell, hadn't he laughed harder than anyone else the time Chris gave himself a black eye stepping on a rake? Only, Chris could still use his hands. He'd even been able to see out of the black eye. Wasn't at all the same. 

"Hey Vin," Buck called, "tell Nathan and Josiah here how you got to work today."

"Bucklin, making fun of another man's injuries just isn't funny."

Buck leaned back in his chair and plopped his feet onto his desk. He gave Vin a knowing smile then turned to Josiah and winked. What was going on with the winking? "I'm making fun of your future injuries Vin, not the ones you got right now." 

"What future injuries?"

"Well, Chris should be here soon." Buck had a smile on his face that said it all. "You'll be lucky he don't tan your hide for riding that crotch rocket with two busted hands."

"One busted hand and I'd like to see him try." Vin growled.

Buck laughed so hard he choked on his coffee. 

"Serves you right," Vin yelled over the din of the coughing and Josiah's loud thumping on Buck's back. "I rode my bike here just fine. And you ain't driving it home."

Josiah, finished bruising Buck's back, perched onto the edge of Vin's desk and sized him up. "What I'd like to know is, just how did you manage to break one wrist *and* tear up the other hand?"

Vin figured he ought to just tell them and get it over with. He was getting mighty uncomfortable, making like a fish in an aquarium. Nowhere to go and everyone studying him. Shit, he knew this was going to happen. 

"Well, Vin?"

All four men turned to see Chris Larabee in the doorway, not smiling. Not even a little. He looked downright pissed, actually.

"Morning, Chris," Buck said as he stood to leave. "I've got to get over to legal. Got some testimony to brush up on for the Wilkins case." Buck was halfway across the office and almost to the door in a flash. 

"Figured you woulda stayed to watch the show, Buck," Vin called out to the retreating figure. 

"Vin, my office," Chris ordered before stalking away.

Josiah levered himself off Vin's desk and clapped him on the shoulder. "Chin up, brother. Chris won't kill a man with two broken hands. No sport in that."

"Only one of 'em's broke," Vin muttered. Hell, wasn't like anyone was listening to him anyway. So Buck'd been right about Chris' reaction. Damn ornery cuss was mad at him. It wasn't like he'd hurt himself on purpose. They didn't have any open cases anyway. They were going to spend the next few weeks getting all their paperwork together on upcoming trials, and they were about to rotate into their mandatory month-long *exciting* turn at liquor license inspections. Scheduled downtime after two months of on call wasn't something Vin wanted to do, but it couldn't have come at a better time. It wasn't like he'd be letting the team down by being out of commission for a couple of days... or weeks. 

**********

 

Chris waited patiently for Vin, aware his sniper wasn't going to come running after him just because Chris'd told him to. Well, now he knew where Vin'd gotten to the night before. He wasn't answering his home phone because he'd been at the hospital, and he didn't answer his cell because cells were prohibited around the emergency room equipment. Mystery solved. Jesus, he wanted to grab Tanner by the scruff and shake him until he cried uncle. One phone call, damned ornery cuss couldn't even make one frigging phone call!

The knock on the door came as a surprise. No one ever knocked on his door before they traipsed into his office. "Come in," Chris called.

Vin slipped into the room, waving around some paperwork. "Got my release forms and doctors' notes right here. Stitches come out in ten days; cast comes off in four weeks. I'm waiting for personnel to open so's I can drop 'em off."

Chris let him hang, silently appraising his friend... lover? Annoying pain in the ass? Should about cover it all. He couldn't help the short, barking laugh - it just slipped out. He wasn't amused, dammit. Only, Vin looked pretty funny. His hair stood on end, his shirts were untucked and he wore sneaks instead of his usual boots. This was not funny. Man was damn inconsiderate, and Chris aimed to let him know just how he felt about that irrefutable fact.

"Where'd you get to last night, besides breaking your arms that is?" Chris finally asked.

"One tiny cracked bone, Chris. First doctor wasn't even going to put a damn cast on it. Then that know-it-all, Green, had to see for himself. Decided I needed a cast. And the other one's just a cut. It wouldn't stop bleeding cause of where it is on my hand. Even that liquid bandage stuff didn't work. Damn nurse waylaid me into gettin the left one x-rayed and now look at me!" Vin held both arms out for inspection, righteous indignation left him agitated and not paying attention to Chris' mood.

"I am looking, Vin." Chris glared at his partner. Where to start? "Did you do that at my place?" He asked softly.

"No."

"Well?"

"Well what?"

Chris squeezed his eyes shut tight; shaking Tanner by the scruff was starting to look like his best option. "Well, how did it happen?"

"Does it really matter?" Vin snapped back. 

OK, rising tensions between two bull-headed idiots wasn't going to get them anywhere but in a snit. Chris practiced his breathing... in - out, in - out, inhale - exhale... he was ready. "Yes, it matters. If it happened at my place, I'd call my insurance company to take care of it. If it happened at my place, I'd want to know why you didn't wait for me. If it happened at my place, I'd be mighty pissed you didn't have the common courtesy to call me. As it is, I called you half the fucking night, worried sick when I didn't hear from you."

"Stop yelling at me, Chris. I done had a shitty night and I'm not going to put up with your crap too. I owe you a doctor's note and that's it." 

Chris'd reached the end of his tether, he wasn't going to lose his temper; he reminded himself. He purposely lowered the volume, asking softly, "What the fuck did you do to yourself?"

Vin slumped into the chair in front of Chris' desk, outwardly admitting defeat. He looked up at Chris and shrugged his shoulders. "Got tired of waiting for you. Knew you got stuck in that meeting so I headed home. Your damn road rattled my bones and snapped one of the motor mounts on the jeep. Was early so I picked up some parts. Damn motor came down on my hand and when I grabbed it to stop it from crushin the left one, I cut up the right one." 

Chris could feel his blood pressure rising. Vin wasn't an idiot - why the fuck did he act like one sometimes? "Let me get this straight," he said, "you worked all day, then you mucked out my barn all evening. And then..." Chris eyed Tanner, watching the blank stare for signs he was getting through. "Then," he said again, for emphasis, "you decided to fix your jeep - pulling out the motor by yourself. While you were doing a job only a moron would try to do alone, you broke your goddamned hand, slashed the other one and didn't bother calling anyone for help. You end up at the hospital... riding your bike, I'm guessing?" When Vin nodded in agreement, Chris continued his tirade. "So you spend half the night getting your hands taken care of, then you drive yourself home. That sound about right to you, Vin?"

"What are you so pissed about? I mucked out the barn like I said I would."

It hit Chris like a ton of bricks. Vin had no clue - he just didn't get it. Mucking out barns, fixing cars, kicking back, shooting the shit, telling crazy stories... that's what guys did with their friends. And Vin wasn't going to get it - not through words. Especially not words yelled at him in anger or annoyance. Chris knew he needed to let it go. For now. Vin wasn't trying to be annoying or contrary - even though that was the result. He'd have to try another route. He saw Vin squirming in his seat, Chris' silence uncharacteristically unnerving him. 

He bit back an annoyed sigh. Holding back the words wouldn't matter if he telegraphed the feelings behind them. "Vin, this has nothing to do with you mucking out the barn."

Chris could see Vin processing, trying his damnedest to figure out just what the problem was. "Are you pissed I didn't wait for you?" 

Damn. Vin looked like a man in a minefield, blindly feeling his way without a clue which step would be his last. He wasn't trying to worry him - even though that was the effect. He was pissed because Vin hadn't asked for his help - either before he got hurt or after. He thought Vin knew he could count on him. Knew he would be there if he needed him. "No, I wasn't pissed. A little disappointed, OK, a lot... but not pissed. I was going to make you dinner for cleaning out the barn. You didn't have to do it alone - we were drunk when we made that bet. I figured we'd do the work together, then have dinner and a few beers before calling it a night." Of course, Chris had more plans once they'd called it a night, but given the current atmosphere, he wouldn't be sharing that little piece of information.

Vin relaxed for the first time since stepping into the office - his shoulders lost the tight tension, and the lines around his mouth smoothed out. "You were gonna cook? For me?" Vin asked, his mouth curving at the corners into a crooked grin.

Chris smiled back and nodded, "I was going to grill. Had some salad in a bag and some baking potatoes. I can cook, you know."

"Damn, sorry I missed it. So why are you pissed off? 

"You really don't get it, do you?"

"How about a clue?"

"Never mind, I'm over it. Come here."

"What?"

"Humor me and come over here." 

Vin did as asked and came around the desk to stand in front of Chris. "What?"

"I'm not going to bite you. Not here anyway. Too many prying eyes."

"Chris..." Vin warned.

"Lift your arms."

Vin did as he was told and Chris reached for the button on his pants. 

"Chris!" Vin nearly shouted and batted Chris' hands away with his cast.

"Relax, would you? I'm trying to make one of my agents a little more presentable."

Vin lifted his arms and Chris tucked in his two shirts, smoothing the wrinkles and straightening them before zipping and buttoning his pants. Chris patted him on the belly before standing and manhandling Vin into the chair.

"Stay there for a sec, OK?" When Vin nodded, Chris went to search his bathroom for the comb he knew was in there somewhere. He came back carrying the comb and a rubber band.

"What's that for?"

"Your hair looks like a bird's nest. You have a meeting with the legal department in an hour and another with the department shrink this afternoon. I can't have my team looking like juvenile delinquents. JD and his peach fuzz are bad enough."

"Hell, least I can grow a beard. And I'm almost ten years past being a juvenile, Chris, give me a damn break."

"When you're looking back at forty, you'll understand, pard. Humor me. I'm not old. You're young."

"Fine, you old fart. I look like a juvenile delinquent. Happy?"

Chris combed through the tangles in Vin's hair, then tied it back at the nape of his neck. "Much better. Must have been tough trying to get ready for work with no hands."

"It's not so bad. I can use my thumbs and a couple of fingers on each hand."

"It would be easier with help, though, wouldn't it?"

"Well... yeah, I reckon it would."

"Good, then how about you stay with me until the stitches come out? Buck can drive your bike home and we'll have my mechanic tow in the jeep. It'll be healed before you are. Think you can live with that arrangement?"

"You gonna cook for me?"

"I reckon." Chris drawled, imitating Vin. 

Vin smiled back - relief and humor both in his expression. "You done got your way, get the shit-eatin grin off your damn face before I change my damn mind."

"What, and turn down free food that I'm cooking? Try again Tanner. Give me your paperwork and I'll bring it up for you. Get your ass out there and work on your testimony. Tell Ezra, when he gets here, that I said he'll be happy to type for you."

"I'm not getting the day off? Can't you see I'm hurt?"

"Doctor's note said you're cleared for light duty. So git."

******

He'd been expecting to wake alone, but the warm body snuggled next to him felt right. The early morning hour didn't feel so right, but the person sharing his big, usually empty, bed made up for the extra early wake up.

"Vin?" Chris whispered.

"M'awake." Vin answered softly. He lay on his side, back to Chris and Chris took the opportunity to snuggle closer, draping his arm over Vin's hip. 

"I'm glad you decided to stay in here. Waking up is easier with someone else in the bed." Vin didn't answer, but he hadn't been expecting an answer. He rubbed small circles on Vin's stomach, savoring the silky, almost smooth skin. 

Vin didn't turn, but he laid his bandaged right hand over Chris'. He gave a little sigh before saying, "If I knew you were going to wake me up at 5:00, I would have stayed in the guest room." 

"Thought you liked to get up early."

"6:00 is early enough when I have to work all day."

"Can I ask you a question?" He felt Vin stiffen, knew it was going to be his reaction, but Chris knew he was a full steam ahead kind of guy and accepted it about himself. How else were you supposed to get anything done?

"Depends." Vin answered.

Chris gave a little chuckle and huffed out a soft breath against Vin's neck. "I'll take that as a go." He lay, savoring the warmth and comfort of the touch and feel of another body.

"Well, go then."

"Uhm... well..."

"Out with it Chris."

"How come you never told me you're gay?"

Vin flipped over onto his back and stared hard into Chris' eyes, making Chris squirm just a little. "What makes you think I'm gay?" Vin finally asked. When Chris didn't answer, he added, "And why'd you never tell me you're gay?"

"I'm not!" Chris said, just a little too loudly.

"If'n I'm not gay, and you're not gay, how'd we end up here?"

The grin on Vin's face made him too cute for words, Chris decided. So instead of talking, Chris leaned in and kissed him, teasing the smirking lips open. He led with his tongue, tasting, exploring, and laughing just a little into Vin's mouth. Vin opened and let him in, captured his tongue, sucking on it a little before letting him pull back.

"We're doing pretty good for a couple of straight guys," Vin said, trying to stop laughing, having no more success than Chris.

"Never said I was exactly straight, Vin."

"Me neither, I guess. I just..." Vin trailed off and looked away, out the window, before looking back at Chris.

"What?"

Vin looked away again. "I don't do this very often. Usually ain't worth it."

Instead of following his instincts and going in for the kill, Chris let the comment slide. He waited patiently for Vin to look at him again. With his patience nearing its limit, Vin finally met his steady gaze. "Nothing has to change, Vin. We can add this to our friendship without too much trouble."

"Pretty confident, ain'tcha?"

Chris lifted his hand from the warmth and comfort of Vin's belly and waved, indicating them, the room, everything- big and small. "I am in this because I know us."

Vin raised one brow, the little smirk coming back, "You do, huh?"

Chris couldn't help smiling back. It was one of the things he liked about Vin, about who he was when he was with Vin. "I do. Trust me on this one."

"Think I've already showed you how much I trust ya."

He couldn't resist that mouth any more. Sure as hell didn't want to. He met Vin halfway, let Vin's tongue into his mouth. Rubbed Vin's smooth skin some more, hungry, so hungry for touch with this man. He hooked his fingers under the elastic on Vin's shorts, rubbing lower without intent. Lazy exploring was the order of the morning and it felt right. 

Vin huffed into Chris' mouth and Chris pulled back, letting Vin's tongue free with a little pop. "What?" Chris asked.

"I hate that my hands are outta commission. If I go pawin at you with this", Vin waved his casted left hand at Chris, "you might end up needing one too."

"And I thank you for the restraint you're showing, pard. Don't think I'd like a cast where I'd like you to be putting that hand." OK. This was interesting. He'd never, ever, seen Vin blush before. Duck his head, hide his eyes, lots of times... blush.. nope. It made him want to do things to make him blush more. 

"What, Larabee?"

"What, what?"

"I don't like when you get that look."

"I thought you weren't afraid of the glare."

"Not afraid of the glare - it's the smile gets me worried!"

"I just can't win, can I?"

Vin tilted his head and stared up a Chris, half-serious, suddenly. "This a contest?"

"Only if you want it to be." 

Chris flopped down onto his back and crossed his hands behind his head. After a moment, Vin elbowed him in the ribs.

"What?" Chris asked.

"No going back to sleep - it's going to take me awhile to get ready and I need help washing my hair."

"You need help, do you now?"

"Nice, Larabee," Vin growled. "You invite me out here with promises of cooking and makin my life easier and now you're gonna make me beg?"

"Nah... sides... gives me a chance to share the shower with you again."

"Who said anything 'bout sharing?"

"Contrary fucker, aren't you Tanner."

Vin gave a full belly laugh, surprising Chris into rolling over onto his side to face him.

"No more than you, Larabee," Vin finally wheezed out. 

He rose and stretched and Chris' gaze immediately went to the bulge in the black long-line briefs. Chris, sporting morning wood, and hoping Vin was too, felt a little pang in his gut when he saw Vin obviously soft - their minds not on the same thing.

Vin let out a cross between a moan and a groan as he raised his arms above his head and stretched backward, popping joints in his shoulders and back.

"Damn, Vin," Chris said, shaking off his thoughts. "You sound worse than I do getting out of bed."

"Slept too long. Bones get a might creaky if I laze around like you."

"Funny. Go start the coffee, I'll get the shower going."

"Bossy in the morning, aint'cha? I thought you'd be cranky, shoulda known you'd be bossy!" Vin tossed back into the room as he headed to the kitchen.

Chris breathed a sigh of relief and ran his hand over the bulge in his own shorts. Waking up to another person felt good. Waking up to Vin in his bed felt right. Damn, he was going to have to rethink his strategy. Conversation was not what he pictured waking up to when he invited Vin to share his bed the night before. 

 

******


	3. 3

When Vin met him back in the bathroom, Chris had everything ready. Clean towels, plastic to protect Vin's hands, and wash cloths. Nestled into the stack of towels was a handy little bottle of conditioner. Chris had chuckled when he'd found it in Vin's pack moments earlier, but the more he thought on it, the more his amusement gave way to Plan B for getting what he'd had in mind for the morning.

Chris turned on the taps, then reached for the plastic. "Let's get those hands of yours wrapped."

Vin shrugged and held out the left one first. It wasn't strictly necessary for Chris to stand with his waist so close to Vin's while he worked, and judging by the arch in Vin's eyebrow, the other man mighta been on to him. Chris just grinned and kept going, enjoying the warmth radiating from Vin's body. No sign of wood yet in Vin's briefs, but he'd see it soon enough, he was sure. Finished with the left hand, Chris reached around Vin's back-- nuzzling into his neck along the way-- and grabbed the wrapping for Vin's right hand. By the time that hand was done, Chris had moved close enough to insinuate his thigh between Vin's legs.

"You done a real thorough job, there, Chris," Vin said, a grin pulling up a corner of his mouth.

"There's times when being meticulous means all the difference, Vin," Chris answered and lifted his thigh just enough to give a barely-there rub under Vin's balls. 

Vin gave a half-laugh, half-sigh, then said, "Well, Mr. Meticulous, ya got my hands wrapped, so you're gonna have to be the one to peel these skivvies offa me."

Chris tsk'd a little, shaking his head. "Now what the hell was I thinking?"

Vin snorted a little at that, but his grin was definitely a little wider. "I don't think I can guess."

Chris hooked his thumbs into the waistband of Vin's briefs, eyes locked to Vin's. "Doesn't matter. I'll take care of it."

He pulled the waistband out just a little, then tugged down, in the back first, over the lush curve of Vin's ass, then in front over his package. Chris leaned back from his shoulders and cocked his head to get a look, earning another chuckle from Vin. Chris wondered if Vin would clock him if he told him he had a pretty dick. Wasn't something he'd ever said to a man, but it was the truth. He looked until he had his fill and Vin started to fill up enough to show Chris he too was getting interested. Chris bent at the waist to slide the underwear further down, till they slipped from Vin's thighs to the bathroom rug. When he straightened, he paused by the peak of Vin's nipple to give it a quick flicker of his tongue. A barely audible hum from Vin's throat reverberated right to Chris' balls, making him tingle.

"We got some steam going, Chris," Vin murmured as he stepped out of his briefs.

Chris worked his way up to Vin's neck, lips skimming warm, smooth skin. "I know."

Vin laughed. "I mean, from the shower."

Chris grinned and took a nip of Vin's collarbone. "Yeah, that, too." But he straighed up anyway, and slipped his own underwear off, balancing himself with a hand on Vin's shoulder. "In we go," Chris said, leading Vin under the warm spray.

Chris was mostly business for a while, running a soft wash cloth over Vin's back, shoulders and chest. He paused for a lick here and a caress there, but for the most part stuck to getting Vin clean. Washing Vin's hair, he let himself slow down, taking the time to massage his scalp and let the herbal aroma from the shampoo waft with the steam of the hot water a while.

He snaked his hand out of the shower and grabbed the bottle of conditioner. Vin frowned a little for a second and Chris shrugged. "Found it when I got your clothes out for the day." 

Vin rolled his eyes then, showing Chris he forgave him for the slight invasion of his privacy. "Making things easier for me is one thing, Larabee, but you're about to cross the line into nursemaid territory, now."

"Call it whatever you want, Tanner, just don't give me any guff about it," Chris said, pouring conditioner into his palm. Chris flipped the lid back on the bottle and placed it on the shower caddy then froze at the indignant furrow of Vin's eyebrows. Chris tried his sweetest smile, but Vin's eyes narrowed even further. If Chris didn't do something soon, Plan B would be washed down the drain along with the shampoo suds.

Chris sighed then, and decided to go for broke. "I'm sorry, Vin. This really is about giving you an easier time of it. But if you want to get out your own clothes and give me guff, you go right ahead and give me all you want."

Vin's mouth twisted into a grimace that lasted all of two seconds before Vin let out a gusty breath and clumsily reached for the washcloth. "Damned irritating son of a--"

"I said you could give me shit, Vin, not insult my mother," Chris laughed and took the washcloth from Vin with little argument from him. Chris still had a palmful of conditioner in his other hand, so he began working it into Vin's hair as he lazily ran the cloth up and down Vin's belly.

Leaning close, Chris rested his chin on Vin's shoulder and looked down. Vin's dick didn't look any more excited than it had earlier, but thankfully wasn't looking less interested, either. Chris' slow sweeps on Vin's stomach drew his eyes then to just above the wet, brown bush of pubic hair. Chris traced a long, horizontal scar in the center of Vin's belly, curious at what in the world had caused it. He dropped the washcloth and traced it again, with the tip of his finger. 

"How'd you get that?" Chris finally asked, then craned his neck to try to glimpse Vin's face. 

Vin ducked his head, though, and for a second Chris was a bit worried. But then he brought it back up again, and Chris was relieved at the familiar, devilish twinkle in his eyes. "Can't tell ya. Classified."

Chris laughed at that. "Uh-huh, I'll bet." He bent down to pick up the washcloth before either of them could trip on it, and on his way up, he felt a plastic covered hand move over his shoulder, right where his scar from rotator cuff surgery marked him.

"So how'd you get that one?" Vin asked, just as Chris expected. 

He tossed the cloth onto the shower caddy and turned to Vin with a smile of his own. "Sorry, Vin."

"Classified, right?"

"American tax dollars at work."

Vin snickered a little at that. "You're so full of shit, Larabee."

Chris moved him back under the spray to rinse out the conditioner, running his fingers through soft, detangled curls. "Sometimes," Chris admitted, mouth close to Vin's ear.

Vin sighed, relaxing again into Chris' ministrations. Once Chris had him good and rinsed, He reached behind Vin for the conditioner again, Vin holding on to his hips with his forearms. Chris kept one hand on the small of Vin's back, curling and uncurling his fingers into the soft dip there, and slid his slick hand around to take Vin's semi-hard shaft into a slick grip.

Vin sighed and leaned into him, resting his forehead on Chris' shoulder and letting the shower spray beat down on his back. Chris stroked him slowly, in a loose fist, occasionally fondling Vin's balls and flutting his fingers along Vin's perineum. Vin sighed again, deeply this time, but then lifted his head suddenly, sniffing, a confused expression on his face. He sniffed again, then met Chris' eyes with a grin as he recognized the scent. "You trying to condition my dick?"

Chris smirked. "Trying to teach it some manners," he said, keeping up his steady rhythm but tightening just a bit.

Vin moaned softly, then asked, "So how's he doing?"

"Mmmm. Giving me his full attention. Nice, Vin. Real nice."

Vin dropped his head again to Chris' shoulder, and Chris sped up a little, clutching a palmful of Vin's ass as well, to hold him closer. "Oh, god," Vin rasped, and Chris felt his body tense under his hands.

Chris nudged his nose into the crook of Vin's neck and shoulder, tasting warm water and salty-sweet skin as he licked and sucked with a growing urgency that matched Vin's undulations against him. Chris tugged on him tighter, faster, humming against the flushed column of Vin's throat.

Vin began to quiver, thrusting against Chris erratically. Chris pulled his lips from Vin's throat with a smacking sound, then looked down just in time for Vin's subdued sob of completion, and watched long streamers of semen arc from Vin's cock to splash onto Chris' belly.

Vin panted against Chris' shoulder and gripped his waist with his arms. Chris helped keep him steady with a hand on Vin's hip. He let go of Vin's spent cock and swept his hand up and down Vin's back, feeling the soft, smooth skin as water cascaded over it. Vin caught his breath after a moment, and lifted his head from Chris' shoulder. He looked slightly confused, and like he was about to say something, but Chris didn't give him the chance, instead locking his mouth onto Vin's for a slow, deep kiss.

When they pulled apart, Vin still had a somewhat baffled look on his face. "Having trouble rubbing a couple thoughts together?" Chris asked, leer firmly in place.

Vin scowled. "No, asshole, I'm having trouble figuring out how the hell I'm gonna grab your dick like this." Vin held up his plastic-covered hands for emphasis.

Chris chuckled and pulled Vin close to him again with a firm hand on his ass. "My dick can wait, Vin."

Vin sighed against Chris' neck, but a second later, Chris felt Vin's lips curl into a grin. "Maybe not," Vin said against his throat.

Before Chris could ask what he was talking about, Vin dropped to his knees and looked up at him with a mischievous twinkle. Chris' eyebrows climbed his forehead. "What are you doing?"

Vin shook his head. "If ya have to ask, you're in for a hell of a shock, Larabee."

Chris sniggered and slid his fingers into Vin's wet hair. "Vin, you don't have to do this." He wanted him to, of course, but Chris had to let Vin know it wasn't mandatory.

Vin glanced down at Chris' firming cock then back up at Chris' face. "Look whose dick needs to learn some manners now."

Chris' laugh quickly turned into a moan as Vin took the tip of his cock between his lips and began to caress it with his tongue. "Jesus, Vin!"

Wrists braced against Chris' thighs, Vin sucked more of Chris' shaft into the hot silk of his mouth. Vin's tongue began a wicked flicker, sending electric jolts from Chris' dick to his balls. Vin's nose tickled into the damp bush at the base, and Chris fought to keep standing on his shaking legs. Vin slowly drew back, sucking hard until just the head remained in Vin's mouth. A subtle twist of Vin's head made Chris' groin sizzle with the sparks jumping from his sensitive glans.

Vin got serious then, cheeks hollowed as he moved up and down on Chris' cock, sucking hard enough to slurp each time he pulled back to the tip. Chris went into meltdown and had to fall back against the tiles of the shower just to stay upright. Vin and his mouth were relentless, and Chris was powerless against them, feeling sparks grow hotter and faster, zipping from every nerve in his body to pool in his balls. The intensity escalated until orgasm exploded from him, releasing sensation from him in forceful bursts right into Vin's throat.

Chris gulped for air as aftershocks ripped through him, threatening to pull him to the floor of the shower. Vin stood then, and Chris watched through heavy lids as Vin's throat bobbed, swallowing the last of him. A violet shiver rattled through him as the spray from the shower suddenly went chilly. He moved on rubbery legs to reach for the taps, shutting them off before they got downright icy.

He stretched an arm out of the shower and he snagged one of the bath towels, quickly wrapping as much of it as he could around both of their shoulders. Vin chuckled softly. "Ain't big enough, Chris."

Vin started to reach for another one, then remembered his hands and stopped with a sigh. Chris grinned, and pulled another one off the stack and draped it over Vin's head. "Cute, Larabee."

Chris felt himself flush a little, but he grinned. "Gimme a minute, would ya? I think you blew my head off."

"Literally, huh?" Vin said with a smug look as he pawed at his wrapped hands.

Chris answered the wisecrack with an amused little grunt, and looped his towel around his neck then reached for Vin's hands. "Hang on, I'll do this." As he freed Vin of the annoying plastic, he began to feel a little smug himself. Plan B went off even better than he'd hoped.

"You're lookin' mighty proud of yourself, Chris," Vin said as he rubbed the towel over his hair best he could with his bandaged right hand.

"Just glad to have gotten the morning off the way it should." Chris snatched the towel from him and took over.

"So you ain't just bossy in the mornin. You're bossy and horny, too."

Chris stopped, cocked his head and looked at Vin for a second, considering. The man's hair was a wet mass of... mess, and he still had a flush on his face and puffy lips from having sucked Chris to kingdom come. Vin looked damned good. "I got good reason to be, Vin," Chris answered with a grin that wouldn't quit.

*****


End file.
